


you can build a fine shrine in me

by grandlovers



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Demon Summoning, F/M, Female Antagonist, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Morbid, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Witchcraft, but still creepy and a villain, follows season 2 but diverges from canon eventually, lot of comfort, reader is sweet and wholesome, this fic is essentially: NOT TODAY CARMILLA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandlovers/pseuds/grandlovers
Summary: You're self taught in the dark arts, and have the ability to resurrect the dead. Due to your prowess, you have been accepted into Dracula's castle. As part of the war on humanity, you are taught proper devil forging by Hector.Both naive and kind-hearted, you and Hector seek solace in one other in what could be considered Hell on Earth.





	1. Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> i finally got around to watching the show, and uhhhhh i love Hector. thats it. more about reader/FM girl will be revealed in later chapters and why she can do what she can, etc, and i took some liberties with the act of devil forging and how the tools work. anyway, enjoy!

Dracula has really lost his marbles. On second thought, you didn’t know how well-adjusted the vampire lord was before all of this, but the burning of his wife didn’t exactly help his sanity. 

You made sure your thoughts didn’t translate to your facial expressions as you stood near the back of the meeting hall. You purposely chose to stand with the vampire henchmen than with the superior generals at the front. Despite being a forgemaster, a position so close to Dracula was not one you were worthy enough for. And yet, his crimson eyes raked through everyone in the crowd, and the one millisecond his would meet yours was all the time he needed to read you like a book. 

Why did you stay here again? 

Oh right, you have nowhere else. The time you spent with his wife for the couple of months before the incident were amazing; the exchanges of skills and knowledge, the intimate conversations which included concerns and secrets you could not tell anyone else. So, now, you felt it was your duty to exact revenge along side the man who was kind enough to allow you to build a life in his castle. 

Plus, you knew things regular humans didn’t. You’re a liability; an accident waiting to happen outside of these royal walls. 

A thoughtless quip by Godbrand made your eyes refocus and allow your ears to hone back into the chatter of the meeting. Hopefully no one saw you zoning out like crazy. 

You had barely listened, but it seemed the first political meeting was going well. Remarks by Godbrand were not out of the ordinary, so they didn’t count. Isaac, a stern forgemaster you maybe have spoken 4 words to, brought up his opinion of the human genocide. He was all in for the genocide, and cared little if lives were spared. Hector, on the other hand, believed that humanity should be culled; which one was better in the eyes of humans, you could not tell. 

A gruesome death by raging demons, or to be literally sucked dry by bloodthirsty vampires. ‘Tough call’, you thought cynically. 

Before you knew it, Dracula had stood from his towering throne and began to head back up to the upper levels. 

“What the _hell_ was that?” Godbrand said out loud to no one in particular. The two devil forgemasters were heading up after Dracula, and chose to ignore Godbrand’s ranting about who was general and who was not. 

When they weren’t rattled by his words, he called after them, “Hey! Where are you two going?”

Hector stopped, voice calm, “We are going to talk to him.” 

Isaac abruptly ceased his steps and turned back, umber eyes immediately finding you among the crowd, “Are you not coming along, ___? Dracula called for you as well.”

‘_He did?!_’ was on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. That’s what you get for not paying attention, you guessed. Your silence was then met with a faint glare from Isaac. 

Still quiet, you made your way up to the upper platform; you felt an itch on the back of your neck as you passed the vampiric generals. 

“Godbrand, you’ve never met anything you didn’t kill, fuck, or make a boat out of,” Hector remarked as you walked by, and you hid your snicker from behind your sleeve. Isaac landed a few more verbal blows of his own toward Godbrand as you trailed behind him, Hector then hot on your heels. 

The outside noises began to fade away once again as the beating of your heart became louder and louder. It beat like a drum, blood rushing in and out of your ears. You weren’t particularly close with either forgemaster, and definitely not Dracula. The first time you were alone in a room with the three of them, when he had introduced you to the duo, was awkward and embarrassing. 

Despite being a forgemaster and even having knowledge in medical science, you could not summon demons; the majority of your novelty came from being able to create intelligent zombies, not so much make night hordes. 

Zombies were cool and all, but they weren’t durable, vicious, _powerful_ demonic warriors. Isaac and Hector were impressed in the first few seconds of your introduction, but it dwindled down upon hearing your skill in alchemy was novice at best. 

You figured this little rendezvous would have something to do with it. 

\--

“Master.”

“Hector, Isaac. . ____,” Dracula murmured once you reached the doorway of his study. The crackles of the fireplace threatened to speak over him. “You may approach.”

You stayed behind with your hands clasped at your hips. Isaac spoke first, “We are honored by your faith in us. But to serve you correctly, we have to ask-”

“Why us?” Hector spoke next, side-by-side with Isaac. 

Dracula turned away from you three, facing the fire, “Did you hear Godbrand down there?”

Even though you were summoned, it felt the conversation should be between the Lord and the two expert forgemasters. They are the generals, the chessmasters. You had no place in this room, you thought. Dracula spoke of livestock, the meaning of such a title and what it meant for their kindred. Really, that’s where your anxiety came from. 

It could be called insecurity, but it was difficult to be confident in one’s stance in a massive castle filled with the very killers of your kind. You were spared because you are useful. You knew that better than anyone. A drive to strive for a greater raison d'être consumed you. You would be more than livestock. 

Declarations of loyalty indicated the near end of the meeting. Isaac stated that they will suffer, whilst Dracula replied he cared less about purposeful suffering, and more of the total annihilation of the human race. 

Your heel tapped on the floorboards, and Dracula barely turned his head, “I didn’t forget about you, ____.” 

Nervously, you cleared your throat, “It didn’t cross my mind that you did, Master. I was only waiting for any order that may you have for me.”

There was silence. A couple of seconds passed before Dracula spoke again, his voice low and soft, “I do have one. I am aware of your resurrecting ability, and the capability of the necklace around your neck.” He paused, Isaac and Hector looking toward you. 

Subconsciously, your fingers toyed with the jewelry hanging over your bosom. It was a chained necklace with a miniature crystal ball charm; a long time ago, you had met a witch who gifted you the necklace as a placeholder for magic. It supposedly had a spell ingrained into the tiny ball, and through that it allowed you to produce energy for the dark arts. 

His baritone voice rose over the crackling fire, “But, you are not able to forge night hordes. No one taught you, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then I propose that either Hector or Isaac teach you.”

The two forgemasters glanced from each other to Dracula. You realized, with embarrassment, they didn’t seem happy about this proposal, nor had Dracula said anything to them before this. 

Right as Isaac opened his mouth, Hector beat him to it, “I could teach her, take her in as an apprentice.”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were glad Hector picked you, for it would have been worse if you had to pick yourself; not as if Isaac would have cared if you didn’t pick him. 

The chair creaked as Dracula reclined, “Then that settles it. She’s talented as is, she should learn fast Hector. Any issues or improvement, report to me.”

“As you wish, Master.” 

You followed Hector like a lost puppy, making sure to bow and say your exit to Dracula as you both left. 

Through the corridors, you examined Hector. Having met him twice total, you knew very little of him. He definitely came off as nicer than Isaac, which was a blessing in itself. With a blush, you also came to the conclusion that he was pretty handsome too. 

‘_No, no_,’ you thought, ‘_don’t ogle your teacher._’ 

“When we arrive at my forging room, I’m going to give you a book on demon evocation. I want you to read it, comprehend it, and memorize it while you watch me forge. Are you capable of that?”

“Absolutely!” you replied with a tad too much “oomph”. 

You could practically hear him raise his eyebrows. He said nothing else as the two of you reached the hulking doors of his forging room. He opened one side and allowed you inside first. 

“Let’s begin.”

\--

The twang of the hammer hitting cold stone echoed throughout Hector’s chambers. You studied the blue sparks flying from his forging tool, and sensed the vibrations that spread across his table and over the gruesome corpse. They were invisible, yet his power rippled the surface as if the stone was ocean waves. It was the first time you had seen either of the expert forgemasters work; and frankly, it was mesmerizing. If his technique wasn’t about to form a hideous demon, you would dare call it gorgeous. 

You returned to reading the thick, yellowed book in your lap. The book had torn pages, scribbles in another language on the margins, and even texts completely blacked out. A strange thing it was, but it had what you needed. He referred you to certain chapters that had ritualistic chants, and the overall how-to process for evoking certain demons from Hell. The letters were bleeding and had begun to deteriorate, so you brought up your knees and tried to lean in closer. 

The forging routine was monotonous, and neither of you exchanged words. Cezar, his zombie dog you found out, pitter-patted around the room and would every so often demand your attention. You swore you saw a hint of a smile on Hector’s face when you smoothed down Cezar’s fur. 

Multiple forges and a headache later, a groan came from the next victim. 

You jumped as the creature on Hector’s table sat up with especially alarming speed, neon blue eyes frantically searching the room. It set its target as Hector, and unsteadily swiped in his direction. This was one inexplicably larger, and had a lengthy wingspan. Hector avoided the attack, taking small steps around the room until the creature settled down. It calmed, and Hector cupped its cheek, its skin stretched taut over sharp teeth, and whispered inaudibly. With the grace of a caring master, Hector gently guided it with his hand toward a separate door. 

A vampiric soldier came in from nowhere and took the creature away. The next corpse was grabbed and slung on the table by a vampire henchman. Hector stood back and motioned for you to go next. 

“Me?” you said meekly, finger pointing at yourself as if it there was anyone else in the room who could resurrect the dead. 

Hector responded with little emotion, yet more patiently than you deserved, “Yes, you. You studied the book I gave you, and you watched the process. It’s your turn.”

“Okay, yeah, I got this.” You set the alchemy and summons books down, and picked up the slender dagger that Dracula had given you. You didn’t have a proper summoning tool like Hector and Isaac, so this would have to do. It was smaller than Isaac’s, and simpler; you had wrapped your occult necklace around the hilt, its tiny crystal ball-like charm dangling near the blade. 

Hector spared you one last encouraging glance, his arms crossed as he leaned against the large bookcase. 

You breathed in and out, finally taking a good look at the man, or what was left of him, before you. Both of his legs had been sliced off above the knee; sharp fragments of his femur sticking out of the stumps. His left arm was also missing, except the wound was cleanly cut. Then you peered up to his face, and noticed his missing jaw. It had been ripped off at the hinges, bloody red tissue spilling over his throat. 

This wasn’t just a teaching session on devil forging, but Hector decided to test your resurrecting ability too. Inject the soul of a demon, and bring the man back; accessories, like his limbs and jaw, included. 

One last deep breath, and you kept your eyes on the necklace charm. The clear crystal began to glow, its shine rivaling the blade. A purple aura slipped from your fingers and enveloped the dagger. Keeping a hand hovering over the weapon as you held it above the corpse’s forehead, you chanted under your breath: 

_"Heed my words, O great powers of darkness! Release to me one of the tortured souls! Let me infuse him with my life-force and awaken him to the world of the living! Immaculate being... Appear before me now."_

You took a silent second to relish in the victory of remembering every word. Then, with utmost precision, you stabbed the dagger into the body, ultraviolet spreading across the corpse in waves. The necklace burned with intensity, and your pulse picked up, beating in rhythm to the transformation before you. 

A sickly brown tinted the man’s skin, and it flowed downwards to form limbs, as if this corpse was being painted into existence. You couldn’t help your excitement. The notion of making demonic monsters for a war on humanity completely left you. This wasn’t about appeasing anyone now, this was knowing you were capable of a feat like devil forging. 

An ethereal purple colored the creature’s irises. You jumped up and down, your dagger and necklace clinking together, “Oh my gosh, Hector, I actually did it- Oh, _oh_. That doesn’t look right.” 

Your celebration was cut short by Hector tugging your arm. He pulled you close, and you watched the grotesque monster try to sit up. You didn’t think it was possible for these creatures to get any uglier, but you sure succeeded in that. It was too bulky, too asymmetrical. It had not been shaped as well as Hector’s creations. At least you managed the demon summoning, as the creature became agitated and violent within seconds. 

Hector, as calm as you would have imagined, gave a sign to the henchman nearby, and a spear was then thrust into the skull of the creature. As sad as it was to watch your first devil forging attempt be killed before even having a chance, it was what it was. 

“Well,” Hector started, “your first attempt was almost successful.”

You gazed up at him, a slight pink on your cheeks, “Thanks for being optimistic.” If Isaac had been the one to teach you, you knew he would’ve called it an utter failure.

He gave the smallest of smiles, “My first time wasn’t perfect either. Devil forging is an art as much as it is a science. It takes time and willpower.”

“And magic!”

“Of course. Anyway, let’s work on what you did wrong.” Hector signaled for the next victim. 

You shifted your weight, “Honestly, I don’t know what I did wrong. It felt as if I did everything right. I recited the chant, I pooled my energy into the tools.. Is there something I’m missing?”

He turned toward you, cerulean meeting your own pale irises. A chill went down your spine, and you realized how hypnotizing he was. Human he was, just as much as you, but he had this air of being above you. Powerful, bewitching, beautiful.. 

“During the ritual, it is important to have a vision in mind. Summoning a demon is not merely transferring power and souls, but having the vision of what this corpse could become. You want to create life, from death. You, as the forgemaster, breathe air into this lifeless body to give it meaning.”

You raised your eyebrows, stuttering upon thinking you were caught staring, “Uh, oh yeah. That makes sense.” His voice was a bit monotone, but honey-like and silky. You could listen to him go on for hours, you think. 

If he did notice, he gave no hint of it. “You need to have full concentration, ____. Have the vision in mind, and breathe life into it. Simultaneously, don’t overthink it. Try again.”

So, you did. Again, and again, and again. 

The second attempt was a drastic improvement, but the creature remained the size of a human, instead of turning into the sturdy, broad-shouldered ones Hector and Isaac would create. It was thin and short, but still a successful summoning. To your surprise, this one was not killed and was taken to where presumably the other creatures were being stashed. Hector assured you it would have use. 

From the third forging and on, you managed to forge some wonderfully devious soldiers. While not having the mass and power of the others, it would easily pass a standard evaluation, if Dracula had such a thing. 

After the sixth forging, the dagger became heavy in your hands. The bright lighting in the forging room stung your eyes, and fatigue clouded your mind. Hector noticed right off the bat, and stopped you before you began your next forging. 

“You did well,” his hand perched atop yours on the dagger, “Don’t push yourself. There’s always tomorrow, so get some rest.”

He didn’t smile, but you felt his warmth regardless, “Thank you, I will. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I really was.”

“It’s easy to do, trust me. Don’t make a habit of it.” 

You picked up your belongings and made your way to the exit. The door swung open, revealing Godbrand. He muttered a half-assed ‘excuse me’, and ignored you as he walked up to Hector. 

You shook your head, and then prepared yourself for the 15 minute walk to your room; silver hair and pretty blue sparks occupying your thoughts.


	2. Dark Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector and Godbrand discuss the war, while Reader thinks up a new way to solidify her status in the council.

Hector had not yet noticed the presence of the viking waltzing into the forging room, having picked up Cezar to ruffle his ears. 

“It's not really doing much, Hector. It's dead.”

Hector sighs, carefully setting Cezar down and watching him pat away on bony paws, “You really don't understand the act of forging, do you? He's not dead. We make life from death here.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, yeah. Hey, I gotta ask, is that girl your new pet or something?” 

“Pardon?” 

Godbrand thrusts a thumb down the hallway, though the girl’s silhouette can longer be seen. “Whatever her name is. Is she under you now?” 

“Yes, she is my apprentice.” 

Godbrand snorts, “Of course she is. Did Dracula set you up to this?” 

“He informed us of the plan he had for her, and I volunteered to take her under my wing. There was no setting up.” 

“So you don’t mind coddling some girl off the street when you, you know, have shit to do?” 

“Godbrand, I _volunteered_. I must ask, what is to you whether I have an apprentice or not?” 

He puts his hands up in faux surrender, a snarl marring his features, “It doesn’t, but forgive me for being curious.” 

“I highly doubt it was innocent curiosity. Regardless, what brings you here, Godbrand?” 

“I actually came to apologize for my outburst in the War Hall,” Godbrand said haughtily. It was as sincere as an apology from Godbrand could get; which wasn’t very sincere at all. 

Hector fought from rolling his eyes, “Excellent apology.” 

In a flash, Godbrand dropped the air of superiority and invaded Hector’s personal space, his voice lower than before, “ Dracula brought us all here to fight his war, Hector. All the vampires under his reign.” 

Hector interrupted, “The war, not his war.”

“It's just somewhat galling to have him look to the two humans in the room first. I should have held my tongue. So I apologize.”

Hector picked his forging hammer back up and clinked the blunt end on the table, “Accepted.” The blue waves enveloped the corpse, transforming it within seconds. 

“But the other generals and my subordinates have some questions.”

“Oh?” Hector paused for a second, waiting for the next corpse to be slung onto the forging table. He didn’t glance toward Godbrand, yet he could picture the secretive expression on the viking’s face. Despite having just met Godbrand, he could read him pretty easily. It didn’t help that he was boisterous, and spoke every thought that crossed his mind. Hector then guessed Godbrand was going to complain about Dracula’s plans, having seen his tense stature during the war council; of course he kept his thoughts to himself during it, not wanting to face the grievous wrath of their leader. 

Godbrand crossed his arms, “Hector, do you think this war is going well?”

There it is. “We're hardly losing.”

“No, of course not,” the redhead huffed, not receiving the answer he wanted. “But it seems chaotic, undirected. As if we were lashing out at humanity without any real plan beyond wild destruction.”

Hector struck the forging table, another desecrated corpse filling up with new tendons and muscle, “I think wild destruction is what he wants.”

“There should be order, right? Even in the removal of a species from a place. Wars have order. Plans and maps and _lines_,” Godbrand spoke with his hands, gesturing the shape of maps and the act of writing to emphasize his words,” It could be done more carefully. Then, Dracula suddenly allows some child genius or something to come in and create more soldiers. It feels _desperate_, like he’s reaching for anything to help the war.”

“She was here before we had been called for, Godbrand.”

“Does it matter?” he replied matter-of-factly, “She’s still here, isn’t she?”

Hector paused again, his hammer hanging loosely by his side as he faced Godbrand, “Well, there is more wanton bloodshed than I would like. I don't love the rest of humanity. I don't wanna share a world with them, but,” he sighed, “the suffering.”

A foot soldier made its way into the forging room, pulling a heavy carriage stacked with bodies. Godbrand turned up his nose, the vampire and forgemaster taking in the irony of a Bishop sitting atop the corpses, teeth marks across his face; or, what he had left of his face. 

“Is this the last of the dead from Gresit?” Hector asked the soldier. 

“Yes. The night hordes took as many of their victims as they could for the forges.”

Hector wiped his enchanted hammer with a cloth, “This will do. If there are any left, take them to Isaac.”

Godbrand bit the inside of his cheek, and kicked off the pillar he leaned against, “Well, I’ll let the dear forgemaster tend to his work.” He gave the corpses a sneer, then noticed Cezar in his way. “Pity there’s no more mistreated dead pets to add to your collection.” The toe of his boot softly kicked Cezar, the dog whimpering in response. 

Hector glared at the viking, “If you’ll excuse me, _Godbrand_.”

The man in question lazily waved on his way out. 

♱♱

You were properly drained by the time you reached your bedroom. To your internal clock’s dismay but to your aesthetic delight, soft yellow rays of the early sun shone through the window and covered your cozy bed in a warm glow. The first few days living in the castle had your sleep cycle turned upside down and spun around until it could no longer tell day from night. It became easier over time, and you managed to force yourself to sleep when tired, no matter in the morning or midnight. 

Though, realizing the sun had just begun to rise after working in inky darkness for hours upon hours still screwed with you. 

Your personal bag was then set aside on your desk, clothes slipped off with haste, and a hot bath drawn to rid yourself of the scent of rot.

The water in the tub sloshed in tandem with the castle creaking and groaning. You heard trinkets and books rattling in your room. You settled yourself against the lip of the tub for stability. When the trembling came to a stop, you stepped over to the window; valleys of muted green and dark brown dots of wooden homes were your new view. From the height of your personal quarters, you could see the top of the morning fog, the dreamy mist hanging above and around the mountains. The scenery urged a wave of nostalgia to wash over you; crisp air, sweet scent of summer flowers, and the warm kisses of sunshine on bare skin. Something invigorating and wonderful burst within you, it felt a lot like. . happiness. 

You hastily closed the curtains and the dry musk of the castle surrounded you. The morning rays gave way to the chilly air of the bathroom, your bathwater already growing tepid. 

It will have to do. 

♱♱

Shadows hid the vampiric soldier’s face, red beady eyes glowing in the darkness of his Lord’s study. Flames crackled in the fireplace. The Count sat still as a statue, not bothering to give permission to speak. 

The soldier kept his hands behind his back as he spoke out loud, “The Cyclops was defeated, Count Dracula.”

Nothing else had to be said. 

“I see.”

The soldier stood just as still. 

“He has awakened, I presume?”

“From what we know, yes.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“I will discuss this new information with my council. You may take your leave.”

The soldier nodded, his light footsteps drowned out by the sparking of flames. The red heart of the fire matched the eyes of its audience. 

♱♱

Exhausted as you were, that wasn’t going to stop you from reading a couple pages and having tea. You had slipped on your nightgown and tied your hair back, feeling comfortable and clean. 

The aroma of lavender blended tea swept over your room, hiding the castle’s earthy wooden scent. You spooned out a bit of honey in your teacup, and thanked yourself for having most of your treats and reserves in your quarters to avoid going into the open of the castle kitchen. 

Sifting through your rather small bookshelf, you pondered over what to exactly read. Your eyes drifted to your bag, and the evocation book inside of it. Hector, pleasant as ever, allowed you to borrow the book to study in your downtime. You were thankful, considering this book had interesting tidbits other than devil forging inside of it. It alluded to the types of demons within Hell, and the various ways of invoking them other than through resurrection. The information was still sparse, unfortunately. 

An idea sparked in your head. 

You rummaged with a quicker pace, looking for a bright red binding. Upon finding it, you plucked it out and studied its front and back; it was the handmade grimoire by the same witch who gifted you the crystal ball talisman. 

Thank you Paulina, you thought with total appreciation as you flipped through the grimoire. Paulina had drawn sigils of demons made up the first twenty or so pages, along with the distinct markings for fallen angels that now reside in Hell. The middle was packed with magic spells and instructions for said spells, and then the last couple of pages had basic how-tos for black witches, such as creating amulets and charms. 

It was the greatest gift you had received yet. You remembered fondly how Paulina acted exasperated when around you, finding it tedious to teach you crumbs of the vast amount of knowledge she had. But, when it was your time to leave, she all but shoved the talisman and grimoire in your hands, telling you to make good use of it. Back then, you wondered how such expert tools would help a novice like you, but on your lonely trek across villages, you realized her gifts were less about charity and more about having someone to bestow her wealth upon, someone to continue her work once she was gone. 

Witches were powerful, but they were not immortal. 

You plopped on your bed with your books and teacup, taking care not to spill hot tea over the texts. Side by side, you opened the evocation book and the grimoire. You wouldn’t be able to cast any spells or magic at the moment, not after the taxing devil forging, but it wouldn’t hurt to study. 

Her grimoire, for whatever reason, did not have the actual instructions for summoning demons, only the resources to do so. The pages had their respective sigils, and specific items the demons preferred, such as certain herbs or flowers, types of incense, and even candle colors they liked. You snorted upon thinking of a demon wanting tulips and pastel candles lit for them.

After cross-studying for half an hour, another, sinister idea came into your mind. Pushing a powerful, named demon into a corpse for the sake of Dracula’s hordes would be interesting, amazing even, but what if you summoned a demon for yourself? 

Pacts were not unheard of across witchcraft, but they were dangerous. They gave tremendous power and knowledge to the witch, and you had assumed Paulina had a demon or two attached to her, considering her prowess. The witch had an odd aura, one unlike a normal witch, or a devil forgemaster. Something ominous and hot surrounded her, like the demons themselves had curled around her figure. 

You backtracked some pages, and looked at each sigil. The telltale sigil of Baal came into view and you immediately skipped it. _Nope, not ready for that._ You weren’t dumb enough to try and summon the first king of Hell. 

You then passed over the sigils for Great Dukes, Princes, and the Marquess. If you even wanted a chance, it was best to go for low hanging fruit. Truly, none of these demons were, but the lower the rung, the higher the success for you. 

Doubt planted a seed in the back of your head; its roots began digging into your spine and its blooms traveling across your skull, swarming you with insecurity. Could you even summon a demon, let alone bargain with it for a pact? You wanted so desperately to become a greater witch, to have destructive dark spells at your fingertips and words on your tongue that commanded night hordes and demons. 

As a human in a continent, hell, a whole _world_ filled with vampires who would slit your throat before you could beg for your life, you needed all you could get. You had a place in this world just as much as they did, and you wanted to prove it. If they wouldn’t heed your words, then you could show with your actions. Your newfound determination rose to levels you didn’t know you hadn’t had in years, until it sapped to nothing upon a knock sounding at your bedroom door. 

You slammed the books closed and tossed them aside as you stood and then reached for a coat to cover yourself, nearly knocking over your teacup in the process. “Hold on a second please, I’m coming!” you called. 

A warm, monotone voice spoke behind the thin door, “___ don’t fret. You can crack the door to speak to me.”

Regardless, you threw on a coat and answered the door, swinging it fully open, “Good eve- morning, Hector. What brings you here?”

Hector gave you a quick once over, noticing your coat sliding down one shoulder, “Did I wake you?”

“Oh, oh no, I was awake still.”

“Good, good,” he trailed off. You briefly flicked your eyes back and forth, finding silence awkwardly settling between you two. 

“Did you need so-” “I came to-” The both of you started simultaneously. 

You couldn’t hide your giggle, “I’m sorry, you go first.”

He seemed to fluster at the tips of his ears, and he cleared his throat, “I just, uh, came by to tell you did a good job today. It was more than I had expected, to be honest with you.”

You shoved down any thoughts of his words being a backhanded compliment, “I appreciate that, Hector. Being honest as well, I was nervous about being your apprentice. I am glad that my performance was satisfactory to you.”

Your formal wording must’ve caught him off guard for he slightly furrowed his brows, “Oh, uh, well, I understand being nervous. You are surrounded by experienced forgemasters, and the ever-so-polite Generals, after all.”

“And Dracula.”

“And Dracula,” he cracked another small smile. “Though, he is not as ferocious as you might think. I am aware you were around for some odd months before the incident, so surely you know.”

You leaned against the door frame, the coat hugged tighter to your core, “I do. He was always polite to me whenever I visited Lisa’s cottage.” _I think he was hesitant about Lisa’s friendship with me due to my history with the dark arts, unfortunately,_ you kept to yourself. 

“Regardless, the war has only begun. Your help and expertise, however much you may have matters, so I am counting on you.”

For some _peculiar_ reason, your heart swelled. His steely eyes held as much determination as yours did just moments ago and your skin prickled at the sight of it. You pushed past the flutters of your heart and smiled, “Absolutely. I will do my best, Hector.”

It was enough to sate him, so he gave you a small nod, “Get some rest, and be ready to start shortly before the moon rises. Goodnight. . Or good morning, I should say.” He smiled one last time, before turning his back to you.

You bid him the same and watched him walk away. A big grin made its way onto your face, and you hid it behind your sleeve. Your back hit the door with a thud after it was closed. _Please, whoever is listening, don’t let me fall into his grasp._

Your smile fell when you noticed the grimoire had changed places. Far from the soft spot on your bed, it laid in the middle of your floor, wide open. 

You took a hesitant step. 

The grimoire didn’t start talking, nor grew legs, so you continued toward it. Surely a witch’s grimoire wasn’t sentient or haunted, right? Was Paulina still helping you somehow?

The pages rapidly flipped, going back and forth before stopping. 

You came down on your knees, peeking at the open-faced book. The pages had one large black sigil of a Marquess staring back at you, the charcoal drawing taking up both pages. 

_Are you the one?_

_Could you help me?_, you asked.

The grimoire spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY the second chapter is here!! i promise the third one will come a lot sooner
> 
> a couple things to note: Godbrand calls her a "child genius", but she is of age, just sayin. she's younger than Hector and Isaac (assuming they're mid to late 20's) but not by much. secondly, there isn't much distinction between types of magic in the series, other than witches explicitly drawing powers from Hell, so im going to be delving more into black magic/dark arts, devil forging, and demonology in this story. there will be headcanons mixed with canon, from both the series and games. 
> 
> lastly, Paulina's grimoire is like an early Ars Goetia, since that book wouldnt be made until almost 200-300 years later. ALSO Paulina isn't a ref to anything in Castlevania, but her name does hold meaning /winkwink
> 
> thats all ill say for now, hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Harbinger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first reading of the grimoire doesn't go as planned. The seductive General arrives, bringing unease and reform with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh gosh how long has it been. I apologize for the long wait, as I had hoped to publish this chapter a lot sooner. school, life and the pandemic kinda threw a wrench in that. 
> 
> anyway, a couple things to note: this chapter gave me way too much trouble, and after much editing/rewriting, this is the version I am most comfortable with publishing. I still find it to be a tad off, but I couldn't stand to look at it any longer. GOOD NEWS, canon divergence is starting next chapter so I won't have to deal with the show's weird pacing anymore! I can do whatever I want /rubs hands together/
> 
> secondly, I am utterly blown away by the attention this story has received. the kudos and absolutely wonderful comments are so appreciated, and do help when the brain juices and motivation are running low. thank you so all much, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Your room transformed before your eyes. A sinister voice rang from the pages, yet you couldn't make out their words. Dull colors suddenly sparked in your vision. Red, grey, black, a flash of white lightning in the distance. The nauseating blurs of colors sharpened into a vast ocean of faceless bodies struggling against the tide. Lightning crackled again, brightening the landscape. Rocky structures jutted out of the background, and you saw tiny homes nestled in the crevices of the valleys. A strangely familiar cabin was ablaze in cerulean flames. Blue gave way to Red, a river of blood traveling through another desolate wasteland. 

You wanted to speak, you wanted to question this, but no voice came out of you. 

Your body lurched forward and the images transformed into a swirl of black. You sat alone in the pitch black. No sound, no movement. 

Heat dared to light up your forehead and you snapped your head up, only to peer right into a floating pair of flaming eyes. You realized they, in fact, were not floating but attached to a mass of black fur; barely distinguishable from the void you sat in. 

“**You**,” it spoke, its voice a cluster of tones, much like a church’s chorus singing a hymn. 

You tilted your head, still unable to speak. 

“**I shall wait for you. . . when the time is right. . . Call my name, and I shall serve you for eternity. . .**”

A squeak came out of you, and you hesitated to stretch your hand out to it. You silently pleaded for it to come back, to fully explain this. 

“**I am waiting, Master. Come to me.**” 

The second you found your voice, a yell ripping through your dry throat, an inky serpent snaked around your ankle and pulled you down. 

Down into the ocean of bodies, down into the river of blood, down into ground made of glass, down, down down. . . 

You jerked awake. 

Your head was pounding, your neck popped and cracked as you raised it. With a surge of cold fear, you realized your room was dark. Moonlight shone through your thin curtains. 

“Hector!” you squeaked, “ah, fuck!”

You scrambled to stand up, struggling to do so with your joints hard and immovable from your odd sleeping position on the floor. _Oh no no no, he just told me he thought well of me!_

Your room spun as you tossed your night clothes aside and scavenged through your wardrobe for anything that remotely matched. Smallclothes, good. Shirt next; something billowy was fine. You plucked up a pair of pants that you weren’t sure if they were black or just dark green. _Oh who cares!_

The last of your preparation was finished by shoving books into your bag. You nearly tripped over the heavy one on the floor. Your eyes narrowed at the benign, yet cursed presence of the grimoire. How badly you wanted to blame the book for your shitty start to the evening, but it was your decision after all. 

You made a smart decision for once and kicked the grimoire under your bed. “I’ll be back later to continue what I started. I’m not done with you,” you stated aloud. No response from under your bed, surprisingly. 

An image of a disappointed Hector popped into your head, and your chest twisted with guilt again. You sighed with much vigor, and hurried out of your room, careful to at least lock the door on your way out. 

The crimson and obsidian velvet tapestries became a blur as you raced through the corridors. Frustration bubbled up in your throat and threatened to leak down your cheeks. _No_, you thought, _I’m not the crybaby I once was. I can fix this._

You turned a corner and hit something solid and sturdy. Thankfully, you recovered quickly and held onto the last bits of your pride. Gold tinkled from the impact, and you met eyes with a General, whose fangs were bared. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, uh, um,” you grasped for a name before she gained another reason to sink her teeth into you, “Raman! Excuse me, I am merely passing by. Good evening to you!”

You did a half-hearted bow with your hands clapped before you in apology, and then took off once more. You’re sure that was more of an insult, but it was the thought that counted. She didn’t chase after you, so it must’ve worked. 

Hector’s forging room doors came into view and you slowed down. With no mirror in sight, you blindly fiddled with your already messy braid and pushed wrinkles down out of your blouse and pants. Inhaling a deep breath, you stepped through the open doors, met with a sharp turnaround by your ‘Master’. 

“You’re late.” 

He didn’t show outward annoyance in his words, but his shoulders were tense and he held not a semblance of a smile on his face. That alone still stung you. 

You straightened your back in response, “I apologize, Hector. Let me take over for you. You can rest, and I will do as many as you wish.”

He raised an eyebrow, then looked to his forging table and hammer, to you, and back to his table. One last glance at you and he sighed, “Fine. I’m letting it slide this once, ___.”

“Understood,” you said with utmost respect. The crystal ball talisman slipped off your neck and you gripped the curved blade in your hand as you wrapped the tiny chain around its hilt. Hopefully, as time passed, you would have a finer forging tool; Dracula had informed you that both Isaac and Hector started with a tool or item different than the one they currently had. You absolutely appreciated the ornate dagger that the Count had given you, but it didn’t suit you. 

Nonetheless, you channeled wisps of violet through the charm, and a soft, faint heat enveloped your hands. 

His cold gaze trailed over your form, its icy path raising goosebumps along your skin. You felt it linger around your shoulders, lowering to your arms and hands, then staying at the talisman wrapped around your forging tool. 

_If he has something to say, I wish he would say it already._

A couple moments passed. You tore your mental focus away from him, and stared at the ethereal sparks reforming the flayed corpse before you. A sickly, deep green tinted its flesh, and bony horns jutted out of its head. This one had a particularly full mouth of razor sharp teeth, causing its face to contort in perpetual anger. It was perfect. 

It used it’s gangly limbs to push itself off the forging table, and gazed at you with its neon eyes. You wordlessly pointed to a corridor that led down to cells brimming with its kin. It obeyed. 

“Where did you gain your knowledge?” he asked, his flat voice flavored with curiosity. “Dracula spoke of a witch that gifted you that charm, so I assume she was your source.”

You shivered, “Correct. She wasn’t a devil forgemaster, as far as I know, but she knew the dark arts like the back of her hand.” Autopilot turned on as you swept the next cadaver with flaming purple energy, your movements fluid unlike your very first attempt. 

Hector crossed his arms, “You don’t know what she was?”

“Paulina was a mage first and foremost, though she had experience and expertise in what seemed like everything. Spells, curses, evocation. She didn’t have what you or Isaac possessed, but she did have a grasp on devil forging. In fact, one of my first lessons was about resurrection.”

When Hector raised an eyebrow, you read it as cue to continue, “She saw how upset I became over an abused dead cat, and told me to do something about it. I didn’t understand, then she gave me this charm.”

_Your tears were interrupted by her raspy voice, “You have it in you, ___. I can feel the innate magic flowing through your veins. You want to change the world, and you have the capability to do so. You no longer have to sit by and watch fate take its victims.” _

_She dangled the tiny chain necklace in front of you, its crystal ball sparkling in the sunlight, “Defy fate, defy God, and bring this creature back to life.”_

You glanced up to Hector, a soft smile on your face, “And the rest was history, as you know.”

An unfamiliar warmth twinkled in his eyes, but you couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it. 

“Anyway, Paulina taught me a lot of things other than witchcraft when she took me in. She gave me the basics about everything I should know as someone wanting to master black magic. Unfortunately, our time was cut short and I only had the words of books, scant practice.”

“Interesting. Was this Paulina not part of a coven?”

You paused, sifting through memories and flashbacks of the enigmatic woman. “No, but I heard her speak of other witches, and of a rather menacing devil forgemaster who lived on her own-- whom I assume she gained her resources about resurrection from. They were all friends, I mean, as close to a friend as you could say, and they shared knowledge between each other.”

He hummed, “People like us are far and few in the world. I guess it would make sense for some to band together.”

“You don’t agree?” you picked up on his slight reluctance. 

“I don’t imagine you’ve heard me speak favorably of humans; no matter their status or abilities, I have never been fond of carousing with others.”

You bit your lip, “You’re not rude around Isaac or me.”

“No, I am not. I consider you both to be comrades in this war. If all goes as planned, the three of us may be the only humans around for miles. Save for those kept in cages for the vampires’ use, of course,” he said with a tinge of bitterness. 

_Hector is bitter over the treatment of humans? I thought he hated them?_ You mentally filed that detail away for another day.

“I digress. Please keep up your work. I will be in my office if you need me.” Before you could ask, he replied, “Research.”

You tried to keep your eyes on your next victim, and not Hector’s retreating form. Somehow he still trusted you. That, or the poor man was exhausted and didn’t feel like babysitting you. 

You shook the anxiety out of your hands and pretended the foot soldier next to the pile of corpses wasn’t even there. You could handle this. 

♱♱

You estimated that a full hour had passed, until an obnoxious voice halted your hand. “Dracula called for another council.”

The hateful tone made you turn around and you came face-to-face with Godbrand. 

His frown turned into a teasing grin when he noticed the glow of your forging tool, “Since you’re busy, you can stay put. The apprentice needs her practice, after all.”

Hector spoke up right on time, exiting the linked office door. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation, “She is coming along, Godbrand.” 

The viking’s resounding scoff made you grip your dagger tighter. You opened your mouth to bounce a witty retort back at him, but you decided against it. Hector must have noticed it, motioning for you to set your tool down and come along. You uncurled your charm from the dagger and hurried to walk in step with Hector. 

Godbrand was many steps ahead, not so subtly stomping his way to the council hall. 

“He seems excited to get there,” you whispered to Hector. The vampire-in-question’s ears twitched and you gave a sweet smile when he whipped his head around. 

His figure seemed to shift and disappear, a black silhouette left behind before giving way to nothing; the hallmark of teleportation. 

With his presence gone, you slumped your shoulders. You weren’t exactly excited for the council. 

This time though, you would listen (no zoning out!) and analyze. Speaking up with your own opinion could be the next step, for another council maybe, but you would make yourself useful. A clear goal in mind, you steeled yourself for confrontation. 

Evidently, you weren’t prepared enough. 

♱♱

Isaac and the other Generals were present, and a small horde of menacing soldiers grouped at the back. Loud and spiteful words were being thrown, not just between Isaac and a fellow General, but between others as well. You watched as Cho, the striking and silent vampire, hiss words of venom at Godbrand. For a good reason probably, you figured. 

Much to your apprehension, Raman glared at you and Hector as you stepped down to the main floor. Subconsciously you hid behind Hector by letting him go down first. 

“It took you long enough.”

“Is that a way to speak to another General? I was working on creating hordes, the backbone of this army, unless you have forgotten.”

She set her mouth in a fine line, keeping her attention on you yet speaking to Hector, “That is what you say, but those night creatures forged by mortal hands are being defeated at a quick rate. Annihilation of the human race will not be reached if we stay with such pathetic soldiers.”

“Annihilation, as you say, is not necessary,” Hector ignored her insult, “As long as the humans are weakened, we can divide them and do as we please.”

Her grey eyes finally strayed from you and focused on Hector, “Why do you insist annihilation is not necessary? There are millions of them, quarter of us. These villages must be destroyed so that we can move forward as a new society ruled by Lord Dracula. Your human instincts aren’t getting in the way of your decision-making, are they General?”

Unlike everyone else, you heard the clicking of heels on marble. A tall black shadow descended down the stairway, a pale hand coming to rest on his silver and velvet throne. You saw the glimmer of fangs as he mouthed words that fell on deaf ears. 

His presence made no difference. Isaac’s voice began to rise, voices to mingle and mix. Goosebumps rose over your skin. 

Hector barked at Raman, “You do not question my loyalty. All I’m saying is our goals can be met without gleefully paddling in the blood of children!”

How only a handful of people could make so much noise, you didn’t know. You stared up at Dracula, his irritation evident by the deep scowl on his face. Then, you finally heard his commanding voice rise above the chatter. 

“Cease this infantile squabbling. I said. . I said, _Cease!_”

It was not his words that silenced his army, but the loud squeal of the massive double doors swinging open. Everyone turned to the blast of light coming from the hall. A shapely, feminine silhouette stood forefront and slowly walked into the meeting hall. She seemed to take her sweet time, basking in the attention and how the soldiers parted like the Red Sea. 

Pure white hair and icy blue eyes. Of course you didn’t recognize her, nor did Hector and Isaac seem to. You noticed the faint flicker of emotion on the other vampires’ faces, namely Godbrand. 

After what was a minute of this glamorous entrance, the vampiress spoke quietly, a contrast to her charismatic presence, “I am Carmilla. I come from Styria to join the war council.”

Dracula leaned back in his throne, cheek resting on the back of his hand, “Your presence was requested some time ago, Carmilla from Styria.”

“Indeed. But your mighty castlekeep moves around, and with such mighty vampire generals advising you and prosecuting your war-- What use could you possibly have from a regional ruler?” Carmilla gestured from the other generals to herself, elegance oozing with every swish of her dress, “And yet, my Lord, your forces were from a single city-state. Your generals are in disarray. So I feel that, perhaps, it is time to offer my insights to your great cause.”

Dracula sat unimpressed, “And what insights have you, Carmilla?”

“Why was this new wife of yours never turned?”

Her words hung in the air, and seemed to freeze time itself. Everyone stood rod straight, gazing with wide eyes. The air immediately turned colder. 

Dracula whispered, “What did you say?” As quiet as he was, the threat was loud and clear. You were amazed Carmilla continued to argue with nonchalance. 

“You married, you had a child, and yet you did not make her a vampire. Why was that? Were you keeping a human pet? And if so, why is the vampire society going to war over it?” 

Everything everyone wanted to say, but never had the balls to, was out in the open. From your position, you watched blood seep into the sclera of the Lord’s eyes. You braced yourself for vampire viscera to go splattering across the chamber halls and floors, but it never happened. Instead, Dracula stood and whisked his cape from his body as he started up the stairs. 

“I will speak with you alone. Attend me.”

Carmilla smirked and followed after him. The air gradually became lukewarm and you tried to hide your still slack-jawed expression. The scene regained a sense of normality, with Godbrand again complaining about whatever to whoever listened. 

Isaac and Hector stared up the staircase. You tapped Hector’s elbows, “I am going back to the forging room.”

The trance he was in broke, and he raised his eyebrows, “You are?”

“Yeah. I want to finish the rest of my work. . . as an apology for earlier.” 

He sighed, though rather playfully, “I don’t hold grudges, ___. I am not going to hold one incident against you. But, if you wish to continue I won't stop you. In fact, I will praise you for it.”

You smiled. Isaac turned around, obviously listening to your conversation. You hoped he wasn’t the gossiping type and would ask Hector about this ‘incident’; which sounded a lot worse than it was. 

With a bit of weight lifted off your shoulders, you made your way back to the cadavers. 

♱♱

Hours had passed. Not long after arriving at the forging room, the pile had been cleared, and underground cells were filled with your violet-eyed monstrosities. You were happy to see your progress! The soldier tasked with the source of corpses even seemed content, bowing to you when you were done. Unfortunately, that pile was the last of them and it could be another day before the others came back with more victims. 

You itched to return to your room. Hector hadn’t returned yet, and you thought it better to wait for him and to be dismissed than to leave. 

This led you to sit in his office, which you did have permission into, and you had started foraging for any other books on devil forging. You were astounded at his collection and it took at least half an hour just to decide what to read. He had books in other languages, quite a few in Latin and some in various Slavic languages. You also noticed a small series of journals written in what looked to be Greek. They felt too personal for some reason and you put them back. 

Having settled on a title written in symbolic scrawling, Enochian specifically, you sat back in a plush chair and balanced the book on your knees, hungry for knowledge. 

Another hour passed. The words blurred together. 

. . . the evocation of innocent devils can be of great aid to a forgemaster . . 

. . .while familiars can gather intel and communicate with the forgemaster, certain . . . 

. . . fae have distinct roles, providing assistance in the form of . . . 

. . . the evocation of innocent. . . 

You frustratingly growled out loud. You had read the same paragraph five times now, your brain struggling to cram more information into it. No matter the amount of repetition, nothing stuck. Constant translating of the text’s language into simpler words didn’t help either, merely adding on to the workload of your now mushy brain. 

One third of a massive book should be enough for the time being, and so you closed it and set it aside. With the blurry words out of your sight, you gently pushed the palms of your hands into your brow bone. The soft overhead lighting did nothing to soothe the ache in your temples.. 

“Are you all right?”

You snapped your head up to see Hector in the doorway, taking care to not let the heavy door slam behind him. 

“I’m fine, just the beginnings of a headache,” you answered truthfully. 

Hector moved to the plain tea set on his desk, “Tea?” he asked, already filling the teapot with water from a carafe. He sat the teapot on a standalone ceramic burner and lit up a tiny flame with an electrical snap of his fingers. 

“Absolutely,” you replied. A steaming cup of tea sounded heavenly. Once you realized you’d be having a ‘tea date’ with your ‘Master’, it sounded even more so. You scooted your chair closer and nearly knocked the evocation book out of your lap in the process. 

Hector took notice of it, “Is that the Enochian spellbook?”

“It is! I became restless after finishing forging, so I decided to pick up on something new, if possible.” 

That little smile graced his features. That little smile that sent your heart racing. It was subtle and so easy to miss, but you caught it every time. You stored the image of his sparkling eyes and bashful smile in your head. 

“Did you enjoy it?” Hector poured the steaming water into the cups and plopped nondescript bags of tea leaves into two cups. 

You stammered once he had his full attention on you, “Uh, sort of. I didn’t make it very far, and it’s quite a bit of information. . A lot, actually. Almost too much.”

“Understandable. You have made immense improvement as is, but that won’t make it any easier to read, trust me. I tend to zone out myself.”

You snorted, “I can believe that. It’s all so fascinating, really. I’ll have to pick it up another time.”

The both of you waited in a comfortable silence for the tea to steep. Hector clasped his hands and rested his cheek on them. You got up to push the spellbook back in its place. As you sat back down, Hector suddenly jolted in his seat with the memory of the council meeting hitting him. 

“I almost forgot, um, to recite you the details of the meeting,” he said. 

The water in your teacup became stained with the flavors of the tea leaves, and you disturbed the bag, wishing the process to quicken, “How did it go?”

“Change of plans,” he said matter-of-factly. “We are heading to Braila.”

“Braila?” You dropped the teabag in the cup with a quiet splash, “Why Braila? That’s that port city, right?”

Hector nodded, “Correct. Carmilla had been the one to bring it up, explaining that it would effectively cut off any escape from Wallachia. I wholeheartedly agreed, though Isaac did not. Lord Dracula deigned it as an effective strategy in the end, and our new route is set in stone.”

You hummed, “It does make sense. Board up the exit and cage everyone in.” A pause passed as you thought it through, “So, what of Arges?”

Hector waved it off, taking an experimental sip of his tea, “It’s useless. A desolate city that can be dealt with once the other vital locations are taken care of. Isaac argued that it holds meaning and will cause distress for the people if it is taken first, but what meaning will it hold once the Wallachians can just hop on a ship and leave?”

You couldn’t argue with that. You sipped your own tea, relishing in the hot liquid warming your throat. “It seems things are taking an interesting turn now. Another vampire general showed up, and already we have a new destination.”

“Things are going to be getting a lot more interesting, ___.” 

You raised an eyebrow, a cue for him to continue, and he sat back in his chair, “First, a night creature showed up at the front door. One of Isaac’s. Our meeting was cut short while he tended to it and he found out from it that a Belmont was in Gresit.”

He smirked at the shock on your face, “You reacted the same way the Generals did, albeit they were about to start running around screaming in fear. Anyway, secondly, Lord Dracula’s son ‘woke up’ from his slumber in the same town. How our Lord is aware, I don’t know, but his son is out and about. More than likely carousing with the Belmont if his suspicions are correct.”

“Damn,” you cursed under your breath. “I kind of regret leaving when I did.”

Hector chuckled, “Yes, it became quite the show after you left.” 

The very beginnings of dawn seeped into the office, cool blues and yellows glittering through the office windows. You could see the fading ombre of green mixing with the sun over the horizon. You briefly wondered whether Hector preferred the light of day or the darkness of the night. 

“I spoke with you yesterday on my trust in you and I want you to know that hasn’t changed,” Hector spoke slowly, as if the gentle rays of light hushed him, “I can sense. . . crazier, worse events coming our way, ___. I don’t know why, call it a forgemaster’s hunch, but I don’t think things will become any easier for us. For that reason, I am. .” he quieted down, his fingers tapping on the edge of his empty teacup, “grateful that you are here. Both you and Isaac have made dealing with the Generals a little less shit.”

You beamed, “I-I feel the same way, Hector. I have learned so much already. I appreciate all of it.”

A hint of a blush peppered across his cheeks and nose, and you mentally filed away that image too. “Thank you, ___.” As quickly as it came, it vanished, “With that, I want to dismiss you for the evening. You’ve done your fair share today so get some rest.”

You wanted to wish him the same, but you doubted he would be going to sleep anytime soon. “I will. Again, thank you, Hector.” 

He flicked his head in response, grabbing papers and files out of one of the desk’s drawers. You stole one last glance at your ‘Master’ and softly closed the door behind you. 

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon either. You had a visitor patiently waiting for you under your bed. 

Nothing will stop you this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEMON SUMMONING NEXT CHAPTER LETS GOOO! I should mention that this story has and will have quite a few references to S3, so if you haven't seen it yet, some things may be lost on ya. though I assume most reading this have seen it, hence why you're reading, right? lmao 
> 
> also I HC that devil forgemasters and witches are familiar with occult language. OH and Hector is Greek in this telling. yup. I've seen some theories on him being Turkish, due to the Ottoman Empire taking hold of that area during the time period Castlevania is set in, but admittedly history and geography are not my strong suit, so as of right now I am sticking with a slightly generalized rendition of his origin. 
> 
> creative liberties are definitely being taken lol


End file.
